


Pierce My Soul

by chatsanova



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Etiquette, F/M, Fluff, Handmaidens, Princes, Reverse Crush (Miraculous Ladybug), Robin Hood AU, Teenage Rebellion, and this is france, but i realize thats british, but it's not really based on history, but mostly i'm making shit up as i go, just let me live, listen my aesthetic is georgian era, plus it's fantasy or something, rogues - Freeform, royal au, very loosely based in history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatsanova/pseuds/chatsanova
Summary: Even though Cat Noir has become her village's Robin Hood, Marinette decided to take matters into her own hands and gets a job at the castle. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Half Hope, Half Agony

Marinette Dupain-Cheng scurried through the village, dropping bread on everyone’s doorstep. This normally took her a while, at least an hour. She would quite often be invited into people’s homes for tea, or long-winded conversation. And normally Marinette would happily oblige, but today, she didn’t really have time. She needed to get ready. 

Unfortunately, her plans of getting ready quickly halted abruptly, as she flew into her home to find a tall blond man speaking to her parents. He was wearing an ill-fitting and worn white shirt, tucked pristinely into his newly tailored trousers, and a mask covering the upper part of his face, showing nothing but green eyes and his mouth which quirked mischievously as she entered. 

“Cat Noir!” 

“Good morning, Mademoiselle” 

“Marinette! You got home very quickly!” Her mother smiled at her.

“What is Chat Noir doing here, mother?” Marinette spat. Cat Noir cocked his head, perplexed. 

“He was just stopping in to say good morning.” Her mother turned to put on a hand on his arm affectionately. 

“And to say thank you for fixing these pants, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, they fit marvelously.”

“Of course,” a turn of her head and Marinette looked to Cat Noir once more. “We owed you a debt, but I don’t support your methods, Cat Noir, and my family will not be needing your service much longer. If you will excuse me.” With that, she turned to enter her room. 

“Marinette, don’t be rude, he’s single-handedly saved the bakery more than once!” her father called after her. She ignored him. 

“It is no worry, your daughter has made her point clear to me a number of times. May I…?” he addressed Sabine carefully and gestured to Marinette’s room. Sabine made a face but nodded. He bowed gratefully, “Merci, Madame.”

~~

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng? May I come in?” There was no door to her room, so he stood dutifully outside the doorway. There was, however, a small curtain that hung in the frame, allowing a bit of privacy. He had brought her the fabric from the castle, and she’d only accepted it begrudgingly, and only because he’d insisted that it was being thrown out anyway. 

“I hardly think that’s proper. A masked male entering a girl’s dressing chamber.”

Cat Noir had to laugh. She spoke like those in the castle as if manners and customs mattered. It was like starting from square one with her every time they talked, but the longer they did the more comfortable she’d become. Cat Noir wanted to talk to her forever. 

“Of course, but I need to speak with you,” He played with the edges of the fabric that separated them. He hesitated before saying, “Your mother gave me permission.” It was a weird point, but Marinette cared far more about image than he did. She’d talk to him, but only if the situation would allow an observer to leave the moment thinking how well mannered they were. 

“Fine. You may enter,” she mumbled. 

“Merci, princess.” As he entered, he was hit with a heavy piece of cloth. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m no princess.” 

“You look more beautiful than any princess I have ever met.” He was teetering on the edge of well-mannered. 

“You’ve never met any princesses.” 

“You are so certain. Who is to say I haven’t been courted in kingdoms across the land?” 

“Me. That’s who.” She too was teetering. 

He held up the piece of cloth thrown at him. Her dress was a deep red and soft. It smelled faintly of flour but mostly of lavender. 

“Listen, Chat Noir, I appreciate what you’ve done here, I do. You got my family out of a nasty situation, but that’s not necessary anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m getting a job. Applying for one anyway. I need to support my family for myself. Not have a feline criminal do it for me.”

Cat Noir couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. He thought whatever Marinette and he had going was good, but he couldn’t very well stop her. What was the harm in her having a job anyway?

“Hm, that is very noble of you, Mademoiselle, however who’s to say it cannot be both of us supporting the best bakery in this or any kingdom?”

“Being charming won’t get you out of the gallows, Cat Noir, maybe you should think of yourself sometimes,” Marinette began folding a stack of already folded clothes in front of her, a nervous tick, perhaps. 

“You think I’m charming?”

“My parents do, especially when you go around singing the praises of our bread,” She smirked a little and turned away from him, suddenly very interested in her selection of dresses, though there were only two. There seemed to be an additional one sitting on a table in the corner by the window. Maybe one she was working on. 

“Mademoiselle, do you know why I favor this place? Your family?” It was a moment of sincerity that Marinette had not learned to expect from Cat Noir. She slowed slightly, divulging attention to his voice, but did not confirm she wanted to hear him answer. Though he did so anyway, she knew he would. It was not a question as it was a hook.

“I’m concerned for our village, Marinette,” he said softly. He only used her name in moments like this, and those were few and far between. Sometimes they even dared to stand closer than this and sometimes it happened at night out in a field near her house and sometimes it involved a gift for her that she refused to accept until she did. “The people grow poorer, the castle grows richer, and the people of this village can do no more work than they already do. Your parents, and you, are truly the backbone of this village’s hope.”

“My parents make bread,” Marinette sighed. 

“Countries have gone to war for less.”

He said it in such a way that surprised her like he had seen the aftermath himself. He was only her age, and she was only 17. He was a trickster, a thief, an alley cat, nothing more. Why did he sound so tired? She turned around to study his face, and for a moment saw sorrow. It was new for him, at least not that she had seen before. But he quickly shook his head to snap himself out of it, leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. 

“Making sure you and your family can continue supplying bread, at a price cheap enough for villagers to buy. That is the goal. If you are getting a job, that means more income for your family and even cheaper bread,” He shrugged like the statement made obvious sense. 

“And you will continue stealing from the castle to make sure it happens?”

“You know, Mademoiselle, I thought you liked things fair.”

“I do.”

“It is fair that the castle should have such luxurious silk while you make a dress out of aged wool? You work much harder than they do. It is fair that they should have extravagant meals when villagers struggle for one loaf of bread? The villagers are much hungrier than they are.” He unfolded his arms and crossed the threshold of the bed in the middle of the small room. He was on the same side as her now, and she had to turn to face him. 

“Chat Noir, I appreciate the sentiment, I do. Your motivations are noble.”

“Then what is the conflict, I ponder?” 

“It’s illegal.”

“Speaking ill of the king is illegal, his law has lost sight of reality.” he dragged a hand through his hair and faced the window above her chair. 

“Speaking ill of the king won’t get you hanged,” Marinette spoke softly, as Chat Noir did before. It was the same worried voice. He turned his head to her. 

“Your motivations are noble, Mademoiselle, but I have long ago accepted my fate.”

They were quiet. The sentence meant something different to each of them. Marinette, of course, assumed that Chat Noir had always intended to be caught at some point. He was risking his life and he knew it and would be prepared to face the consequences. Though, Chat Noir had no intention of being hanged. He rubbed his hands on the base of his neck, ruffling the back of his hair. He didn’t like it when they fought. 

“You should let me fix your shirt.” She broke the silence, looking down his torso, and brushed a frayed seam with her fingertips. There were plenty of holes and chaffed edges. She could guess from what, but she’d probably be wrong. 

“Maybe next time, princess.” He looked at her deeply, a little lazily, “You’ve got your…thing.” He gestured toward her selected dress, laid out on the bed. 

“Right. My thing.” Her eyes drifted from his face, maybe catching a bit of that sorrow from before, to the dress. Cat Noir walked to the curtain on the other side of the room, and gently pushed it aside. “Cat Noir… please be careful.” 

He didn’t turn to look at her, or nod, or acknowledge she’d said anything aside from standing there for a second longer than he should have, and he left the bakery. 

~~~~

Her mother had instructed her to only go by her French name. Dupain. It was a painful request, but her mother insisted that getting hired in such a place would require some sacrifice. She didn’t know how she felt about sacrificing a piece of her identity, her relation to her mother. At first she refused, but her parents admonished her. It would be okay, she was still a Cheng. She made her way to Castle Agreste. 

It wasn’t a long journey, she had hitched a ride with her friend Kim and his buggy. They chatted a bit and he accepted payment in form of a pastry. She hopped off and was greeted by a man who looked like he was prepared to help her off. 

“Intended business, Mademoiselle?”

“I’m here for the job posting? I do hope you are still inquiring.” 

“Yes yes follow me.” He escorted her into the building which was far more extravagant than she imagined. Art hung on every open surface, a staircase swirled upwards in two directions. It was crowded with things to gaze upon. An east wing blurted yellow, the west wing shouted red. There was a statue in every corner and the ceilings kept going and going and going and going…

She was taken into the main hall and then down a small staircase, much smaller than the one above her. This is where she belonged, certainly. They were an afterthought, creaking below her best shoes, as her shoulders bumped into the walls. There she met a woman sitting at the table in a long room. It was a crowded room but not the same type of crowded the main hall was. The main hall was a large space filled with useless pretty things. Down here was small but filled with purposeful things. There was no art, or statues, just dishes, a table, and many chairs lining it. Beyond this room, there was a kitchen. It was currently bustling, and Marinette ached to feel it. This room was empty save for the woman and the two that just entered. The man who brought her said, “I’ll take your leave” 

“Thank you, kindly, sir.” He bowed slightly and she returned with a curtsy. 

The woman stood, she was wearing nicer clothes than she would have expected from someone in the servants quarters, but maybe that was a perk of working in the castle. 

“Good morning, Mademoiselle.”

“Madame,” she curtsied again, small, politely. 

“You are interested in working in the castle?” 

“Oui, Madame…”

“Natalie”

“Madame Natalie. Je suis Marinette Dupain.” She allowed Natalie to sit first and followed soon after. 

“We have kitchen work available, what are your qualifications?”

“Well, my parents run the finest bakery in town, and I often help them. I have been trained in noble customs and serving, and I often cooked for the children I governed.” Master Fu in town had governed Marinette as a young girl, and he was terribly picky about manners and passed on that same governing to other children in town. 

“You were a governess?”

“And a seamstress, Madame.” 

“Why do you search for work here?”

“Those positions were unstable, the kids grew up, seamstressing only happens when direly necessary, and never for very much.”

“What you are wearing, did you put it together?”

“Oh, only the dress.”

“Hmm.” Natalie tapped the table curiously, considering her options. It seemed as though she liked Marinette, a smile playing on her lips, “Please wait here a moment, Mademoiselle.”

“Of course.” 

Natalie stepped from the table and walked into the kitchens, speaking indistinctly with a girl with dark skin and red hair. The girl walked back out with Natalie to Marinette. 

“Mademoiselle Dupain, this is Alya Cesaire.” They acknowledged each other. “Alya works in the kitchens under her mother, but for right now I want her to show you around the castle. I have to speak to someone, but I have a feeling you will do nicely here.” She smiled lightly and moved away and up the stairs. Managing to do so with incredible grace. She turned to the new face. 

“Hello, I’m Marinette.”

“Alya, like she said. Follow me, I know all the fun spots.” Alya had to be around her age as well, a hopeful thought, as she previously considered that she might be too young for the position. Marinette smiled, and let Alya lead the way. Even though she saw it on the way in, the main hall still took her by surprise. Her eyes were forced to take in so much information at once, that she almost didn’t realize that Alya was talking. 

“It’s crazy, right? I’m from the next kingdom over, and though I didn’t see their castle as much, it was maybe half the size.” 

Just then, the thought crossed her mind that no would notice it if something were gone. They had so much that one small bauble, even a whole painting wouldn’t be missed. Cat Noir was smarter than she had first thought. And maybe a whole lot dumber. 

“And this is just the start.”

It turned out she liked Alya. She was kind and casual and instantly made Marinette feel comfortable in possibly the most foreign situation of her life. It was easier when they were both fish out of water, just one happened to learn to breathe a long time ago. Alya spoke about her experiences in the kitchen. It was often loud and full of women, the best sort of places in Marinette’s opinion, and the food was magical. Her mom had worked here for years and once Alya came of age she followed her here. She had a father and three sisters at home. Her home was also loud and full of women and magical food. It explained Alya’s ease. They woke up incredibly early, and also had to supply food for large gatherings. 

“Even a ball once. We were cooking through the night, that time.”

The rest of the castle was quiet in comparison to these stories, Marinette thought. She wondered what mysteries took place above. They passed dozens of servants while walking around, all greeting Alya and introducing themselves to Marinette. They found themselves in the courtyard, a large green clearing surrounded by hedges and flowers. In the distance, the stables fell behind a walking path. 

“Nino, the stable boy, works over there. He and Prince Adrien are best friends.”

“Hmm, Prince Adrien, I don’t hear much about him.”

“That’s because he mostly keeps to himself. He’s polite to us, quiet. Sometimes a bit sassy, to tell you the truth. But I mostly know this from Nino. I don’t really see the prince much.”

From behind them, Natalie called, “Mademoiselle Dupain, Cesaire?” 

The girls turned, of course, and Madame Natalie gestured for them to follow. They did so. Natalie spoke over her shoulder, “Mademoiselle, I know you are here for a kitchen job, but there is actually another job opening that I have been preparing for, and I think you may be a good fit.”

Beside her, Alya gasped, “Madame Natalie, you don’t mean…”

“Alya!” Natalie’s tone warned her of overstepping. Marinette flushed.

“She’s just begun! That position is cursed!”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the termed cursed. 

“Don’t be silly, Alya,”

“Not a single person has lasted a month.”

“Now, Alya...go back to the kitchens at once.” Natalie turned stern for a moment, and Alya dared not push further. She gave Marinette a sympathetic glance and she was gone. 

“Mademoiselle, please follow me. You have an audience with the King.”

“The King?!” she dropped her composure for a small moment, “Forgive me, I just didn’t expect to meet His Royal Highness so soon.”

“I don’t blame your surprise. This is an unusual circumstance. But I have a good feeling about you.”

“Well, I’m honored, bu--”

They arrived at a grand doorway. A doorway appeared to be the only thing between her and the king. She took a deep breath, and Natalie opened the doors. Marinette followed closely behind into the throne room. 


	2. Think Only of the Past As It’s Remembrance Gives You Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien overthinks things. Nino figures out why. Marinette is confused. Alya curses the stable boy.

Prince Adrien Agreste had started his morning both pleasantly and unpleasantly, as he did most days. His life was a constant battle between loving and despising his life and all that he stood for. He started by taking some  _ goods  _ to the market. Then  _ greeted _ some villagers. Maybe one villager caught his eye for longer than he had anticipated. 

“Adrien, you’re the most foolish man I’ve ever met,” Nino chastised him just last week for his continuing encounters with a  _ certain  _ black-haired villager from a  _ certain  _ bakery while wearing a  _ certain  _ disguise. 

He’d made his way back from the bakery, a combination of dismal and beaming. Dismal because they’d fought. Beaming because he knew she cared about him. It seemed like she wouldn’t stay mad at him, but he knew the process would start all over the next time he saw her. 

Their encounters began in the streets at night. She was walking, because she was normal, he was prowling because he was not. Not only was he a criminal but he was also the prince. Being caught would lead to bad outcomes. He’d hope not to hang, but bad outcomes nonetheless. She regarded him with fear at first; he looked up to no good. This was before Cat Noir was a notorious outlaw before the villagers knew who he was. Marinette stood in the street, eyes narrowed. He stopped his prowl. 

“You look as though you don’t want to be seen,” she said. 

He shrugged, “And yet you are seeing me.” 

“You are bad at this.” 

“Not bad, just new.”

“I think those things can exist at the same time,” there was an amused glint in her eye. He smirked, embarrassed yet charmed. The moonlight fell on her shoulders, highlighting her nose and the shine in her hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. She began to walk past him, giving him a comfortable berth, as he stood in the middle of her path. “Next time I see you, I better not see you,” she said. If it didn’t make sense to them, neither of them acknowledged it. He followed her with his shoulders. 

“Hopefully I could see you, m’lady.” He bowed dramatically. If he were to be seen tonight, might as well be a show. She twirled her fingers as she walked away. 

“Have fun in the shadows, Alley Cat.”

“How did you know my name?” he called after her. She laughed in the distance. 

Since then, he went out as Cat Noir more often, hoping to stumble across her again. It didn’t take long. He was a simple man and the smell of bread drew him in like a moth to flame, like a dire need. He didn’t expect her there, covered in flour, so different from the night they met. She looked equally shocked to see him again. Her eyes narrowed as if to say, “you broke your promise”. He was a tad surprised at her resistance, considering how coy she’d been that night, but he soon learned that she cared about image more than anything. Not in the vain sense, but in the respectable sense. She stayed far from trouble, and well, Cat Noir reeked of it. If one was determined to remain honorable and without scandal, then avoiding a roguish vigilante was simple arithmetic. The village had entrusted her with their clothing, their food, and their children. She wouldn’t give that up. 

He placed a bag coin on their kitchen table, as he had done to every house in the village, and her eyes widened. Imploring without a word where he could have possibly gotten that from and why it was appearing on this particular table. They didn’t speak, but her parents made their gratitudes before Cat Noir disappeared into the night. 

Only a few nights later, she had decided to interrogate him behind her house. Before she spoke, he held out his hand and bowed.

“I didn’t catch your name that night.” She obliged and put her hand in his. He kissed it politely. Despite the fact that this was a standard, traditional, practice, he thought he saw her blush. When they were out of sight she calmed and slid down into the grass. 

“I didn’t throw it,” she blew air upwards, shifting her hair gracefully, “I assume you don’t have one, Alley Cat. Being half shadow and all that.”

“Cat Noir.”

“I was close. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“You have two last names.”

“Yes,” she hesitated, focusing her eyes on her hands. 

“Why?”

“Dupain is my father. Cheng is my mother,” she said, simply. For as traditional as she was this was hardly custom. He recognized it, then, as her one small act of rebellion. Everyone had one, even someone as sensible as Marinette. His was a little more...ostentatious, but for Marinette, this name was a big thing. Her mother was a part of her. 

“Where do you get the money?” she asked. It was nearly the same question as his. They meant the same thing.  _ What is your rebellion? What allows you to feel free?  _

“Oh, you know, the ol’ 9-10.” He slid into the grass next to her, sitting.His back pressed into the jagged brick of Marinette’s house, one leg against his chest, the other fell into the grass, knee nearly brushing against her thigh. 

“No. Really.”

He sighed. This could be the end of him before he even began, “You will not like the answer, Mademoiselle.” He let his head fall onto his leg, face turned towards Marinette. He’d seen a lot of pretty girls, it was nearly his job--aside from this, but none struck him quite so much as Marinette. Maybe it was her eyes, deep, imploring, full of expression, or her nose that crinkled when he said something distasteful. Or maybe every girl he’d met had these qualities, but Marinette was the first he noticed or at least truly paid attention to. Why was that? Why was he, right now, about to tell her his most prized and recent secret? He barely knew her, but he was this close to revealing everything. His life in her calloused, hard-working hands. For some reason, he trusted her. He imagined at some point he might even let her in on his biggest secret. Maybe that was too much for her, to be sitting behind your house in the middle of the night with a thief who was also the  _ prince _ . The very prince he stole from. He would save it for another day. 

“You steal from the castle.” 

He looked up, surprised, “How did you know?”

“There is no reliable source of money, not in that quantity, unless it is stolen.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Well, I certainly don’t like it.” She brought her knees to her chest, “But I’m not running to the king’s guard either.”

He smiled at her. This was another of Marinette’s small rebellions. 

And thus was the beginning of their friendship. A rogue and a tailor. She would playfully swat him away, and it was true, she didn’t agree with his methods, but together the village thrived on hope and stolen money. She was his first advocate and his first critic. She fixed his shirts and didn’t ask why there were blade cuts, or why his worn clothes were of the finest fabrics. She probably thought he stole them. He let her. He pushed her hair out of her face as she worked. She let him. 

Adrien snuck out frequently. It was how he kept up his ruse, and the problem with having a person escorting you from place to place all day long was that it was a lot harder to go somewhere unnoticed. It was why he had convinced every girl hired for the position of lady-in-waiting that this job wasn’t for them and they would quietly quit. Some held on longer than others, but really, he was the prince and very persuasive. In the time in between when a girl was fired and a girl was hired, Adrien had complete freedom. Or, at least, an opportunity for it. 

~~~~~~~~~

He sat on a throne, smaller than his fathers, and the empty one that stood next to him. He felt small up there when the throne room was empty, but far too large when people stood below him. He had been called to the throne room, ripped from his free hour in between lessons and anticipated another scolding. It is not what he received, but he was bitter anyway. The large doors creaked open, and two women walked inside. His father’s advisor, Natalie, and...

“Your Royal Highnesses, this is Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain.” 

Adrien’s heart stopped. Marinette in all her poise and sensibility walked gracefully behind Natalie. For a second he thought he’d never breathe again. Here? Now? Could he survive with her just below his fingertips?

Dupain. She had dropped her mother’s name. His teeth grit, and his hands gripped the sides of his throne. Coming here she would lose her bit of rebellion. It wasn’t her fault, he knew why she had done it, but he was ready to spit blood on the very chair he sat. 

“I have considered her for the replacement of Ariana,” Natalie spoke as if the sentence wouldn’t force all the air out of Adrien’s lungs. Nope he was never breathing again, ever. This jacket was too tight. Everything in him held. 

“Interesting,” Gabriel regarded her, “Step forward, Mademoiselle Dupain.” She did. She curtsied. 

“Your Royal Highness.”

“Mademoiselle Dupain, allow me to make very plainly what your intended position will be. You will be in service directly to the prince, make sure he is comfortable, make sure he is presentable for various functions, and possibly most importantly, teach the young man some manners.”

Adrien flushed ferociously but bit his tongue. Marinette looked equally as shocked. This is the first she’s heard of this position. She didn’t come in for this. She was probably here to replace the retired woman from the kitchens. This was a much better position, much higher pay, but Adrien himself had given it a bad reputation. Everyone in the castle thought he was so rude to them they had scurried away, and he let them believe it. 

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” She didn’t look at Adrien, gaze held on the king, even then she didn’t meet his eye. She  _ was _ well mannered, but Adrien had long thought low of this custom in particular. To think  _ his  _ father was too good for Marinette to look in the eye? It was ridiculous. At the least, they were equals, and at the most, it should be Gabriel avoiding  _ her _ gaze. 

“And you would be living in the castle.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do you accept?”

She hesitated, and for the first time glanced at the prince. He knew her eyes well, but she stared into him like a stranger. Both sets were full of shock and adrenaline. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Fantastic! Welcome to Castle Agreste.”

Every possible outcome ran through Adrien’s mind. If Marinette were here, that means she wouldn’t be in the village. Sneaking out would be to walk away from her, in a literal sense, but it also meant to completely rebuild a friendship he’d worked so hard on. The dynamic was different now. Marinette would never be caught dead acting so cavalier with the prince, so there would be no late-night talks in the moonlight. If he told her…maybe having someone on the inside to help Cat Noir would be a good thing, he’d had a few close calls lately. Marinette would probably be frustratingly good at this job, and therefore it would be harder to sneak out with her around unless he told her that he was Cat Noir. The thought of that conversation made his heart curl and not in a good way. He was her employer, directly responsible for the well-being of her family, he was also the BLOODY PRINCE. There were a million possibilities that ran through his mind about how Marinette would react to the news that the wanted thief and the prince were one in the same. None of them were great. 

Marinette was escorted away for instruction and Adrien was left alone with his father. They stared forward at the empty throne room. Adrien didn’t dare turn his head. 

“Adrien.”

“Father.”

“You will treat this girl with the utmost respect, if I find out she wishes to quit like any of the other girls we’ve hired, you will be watched over by Natalie personally. You will be under lockdown. It’s clear I have given you too much freedom in this regard.” 

“Yes, Father.”

“You will have to find a wife soon, and that will require a certain demeanor, one that I have yet to see displayed by you, son.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Dismissed.”

“Yes, Father.”

The downside of pretending to be a cold asshole is having a worse cold asshole think he’s better than you. A “certain demeanor”, Adrien almost scoffed. That demeanor drove his mother away, a woman his father claimed to love. Adrien stood, and flipped his coattail. 

“ADRIEN!” 

“Sorry father, only an accident.” It wasn’t. 

Prince Adrien had stumbled through his fencing lesson, mind clouded with thoughts. How he would escape the castle under close watch if he had Marinette quit. If he should even attempt his ploy again. Could he win over Marinette without his mask? If so, why would he want for anything else?

“So have you found a new lady-in-waiting, Your Highness?” Nino sat in the grass next to the courtyard Adrien sparred in. Cross-legged, knees apart and feet together, a book perching on his ankles, like a young boy. 

“Uhhh, yes.” He was distracted that he didn’t even glare at the title like he normally did. To be fair, he did have D’Argencourt’s blade to think about. 

“You don’t sound sure.”

“No, I’m sure we found one, but…” he parried. 

“What’s her name?”

“Uhm, Mar...y. Mary,” Adrien dodged. D’Argencourt was not, shall we say, going easy on him, in spite of the prying conversation. 

“Does it seem like she’ll be good?”

“Well, she’s got...a good… resume?”

“She’s got a good resume?” Nino asked in disbelief. Not at the statement but the fact that Adrien had said it. Adrien had gone through 5 handmaidens “with good resumes”. All had left within the month. It had surprised Nino, possibly most of all. Adrien was polite and rational to everyone else, and yet somehow drove away every lady-in-waiting hired by his father. They’d attempted pages and squires, but often they just got into trouble with each other. Adrien was not the best influence on the youth. He was hopeless. And he fumbled. And now he lost his match. 

“Thanks, Nino.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” Nino laughed as D’Argencourt smirked with his blade against Adrien’s chest. He popped up from his spot in the grass, book in hand. “Well, I better prepare the boys for your riding lesson. But this conversation isn’t over.” Adrien only glared at Nino as he walked away. Adrien brushed his lengthening hair out of his face, and turned back to D’Argencourt, already waiting with his blade at the ready. 

Nino knew the castle well. He’d pretty much grown up there, at Adrien’s side. His mother worked there before retiring, but Nino had been brought up knowing the palace stables better than anybody, and well, the prince too for that matter. Natalie decided to let Nino stay. He served a purpose to the only child of the king, he was a friend and a brother. The castle had nearly always been his home, his mother didn’t live too far away, it was a good way to live. He walked down an open corridor, the courtyard visible through open archways, the

“Hello, Nino!” Alya cried as they walked down the hallway. 

“Alya! And friends. You must be the new lady-in-waiting.” Nino politely kissed her hand, “The prince mentioned you.”

“Marinette, pleasure.”

“Strange, he said your name was Mary. Marinette?” Nino seemed to recognize the name and pondered where he had heard it. 

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t suppose he’d learn my name just yet. I’ve only just met him, and he is the prin--” 

Nino looked like he’d been slapped, suddenly. His face fell into his hand and he began laughing. Marinette and Alya looked at each other in surprise, and then Marinette squinted at the insolence. Then he started talking really fast and looked about ready to take off. “I hate to be rude, but I really must go chase down a prince. It was nice to meet you, Marinette.” Then he slowed for a moment and took Alya’s hand and kissed it much more intensely than he had kissed Marinette’s, “Alya.” He winked at her before taking off down the hallway. 

“That blasted stable boy,” Alya blushed before they continued down the hallway. 

“Well, that was bizarre.”

“Quite.”

Marinette cleared her throat and turned to Alya, her eyes knowing, “Curious, how Nino treats you, as well.” Alya blushed more, and Marinette smirked. 

“Yes, well, I’m more curious about why he went to chase down the prince after hearing your name, personally.” Changing the subject. Typical. Marinette didn’t push her new friend. 

“Possibly to impose on him a lesson to be more careful reciting the names of people he just met. It’s just manners, after all. I suppose I have my work cut out for me.”

Alya didn’t seem convinced but shrugged. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the courtyard, the prince stood in the flower garden, well-trimmed hedges lined the red brick paths as flowers of every color and shape and size filled the space in between. He came out there to contemplate the consequences of his actions when one of them came running towards him. 

“ADRIEN AGRESTE”

“Nino! My dearest friend! How are you? How’re Plagg and Tikki? Lively as ev-- uh oh” His face turned panicked as his friend didn’t seem to slow as he grew closer. He was about to be tackled. Adrien began his retreat, first stumbling backward, “Nino, please, I’m not sure what I’ve done but I can explain” He didn’t sound serious, and Nino didn’t slow. So he turned and booked it. He ran along the brick path towards the exit on the other side, a stone arch, so if we were tackled he could fall in the grass and not brick. Nino would catch up to him. He was taller and faster. They had, of course, been determining this every week since they were seven. For a few years in between, when Adrien had peaked first, he’d had an advantage, but had lost it when Nino shot up 8 inches practically overnight. Only now did he realize his serious disadvantage. It was also unfortunate in this moment that Nino had been given certain liberties around the prince, for example, tackling him whenever necessary. No one would save him, this was a normal Tuesday. Adrien had just stepped in the grass when Nino tackled him. 

“Get off me!” he couldn’t control his laughter, “I am your prince!”

“Marinette, huh?” Nino was laughing too. 

“Oh...yes… crazy coincidence is it not?”

“You’re crazy, more like it.” Nino got off of him and sat on the ground, panting. 

“Hey, for once, this wasn’t me. She told me she was getting a job. I didn’t know where, and I certainly didn’t think as my  _ personal handmaiden.  _ To be honest, I’m kind of losing my mind over here.” Adrien ruffled his hands into his bright hair, already messy from running. 

“You can’t lose what you never had.” 

“Haha.”

“You’re still unbelievably foolish.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Haha. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing different anyway.” 

“You’re going to get her to quit?”

“Well, ok, I’m doing that differently.” He rubbed a finger to his eye, "Look, I really like Marinette, but she's incredibly good at whatever she does. She will figure out my secret eventually."

"Right, when you tell her to her _face_ because you're WEAK. The first DAY that you went out you were halfway convinced to tell her. You'll do it eventually." 

"She'd keep the secret."

"You don't know that for certain."

"Nino! She's already been keeping it!"

"All I'm suggesting is to test out the waters first. See how she is. Figure out what her actual thoughts about Cat Noir are."

"Yeah she's not exactly going to divulge that information to me, her employer, THE PEOPLE THAT CAT NOIR IS STEALING FROM."

"Hm. Well, just, be careful."

"Always." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is...is this good? I honestly can't tell.


End file.
